Sweet Home 3: Token
by scribblemyname
Summary: When love's away from home, these tokens make all the differences. Rogue/Gambit, Rogue and Kitty friendship
1. Cards

**Challenge: **Word #186 at **15_minute_fic** LJ comm

This was a **15_minute_fic** story, but it doesn't feel finished to me, so... Chapter One? Also, not beta'ed.

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><p><strong>Cards<strong>

Rogue rubbed the warm cardboard between her fingers, over and over, in a rhythm no less annoying than Gambit's shuffling. She was lying on her back on her bed, staring straight upward at the ceiling, likely without even seeing it.

Kitty sighed. This was getting serious.

Gambit had taken off three weeks ago, mouth grim over some flimsy piece of paper he got in the mail. Two hours of brooding, fifteen minutes of vanishing, then one duffle and a roar of motorcycle later and he was gone. And a new piece of cardboard was taped to Kitty and Rogue's mirror. A nine of diamonds. Strange chosen language of playing cards aside, it bothered Kitty mightily that Gambit would just take off and leave his chére behind to brood worse than he had. No word, no phone calls, no letters, no "I'll be back soon"—_what in the world did a nine of diamonds mean _anyway?—just a token card and hit the road.

"Rogue?" Kitty bit her lip. She glanced at the clock.

"Ah'm not hungry, Kit." Rogue didn't even glance up, just kept rubbing on that card.

"Well, it's dinner time and you haven't eaten anything all day and..."

Rogue tortuously dragged her emerald green stare from the card to her roommate's face. There wasn't much life in those normally vivid green eyes.

"I can save you something," Kitty added.

Rogue nodded, like it wasn't worth the fight, then dropped her gaze back to the card and sighed.

Kitty cursed Gambit in her mind and stomped downstairs.

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><p>Rogue knew her friend was worried about her, no doubt about that, but Rogue was more worried about Gambit. He had taken off for the south. She <em>knew <em>the look he got on his face when family business came up to bite him on the bum, and there was this card. She'd looked it up.

A meeting or appointment.

She was just about downright scared. What kind of meeting? It had to be Guild, but she wasn't even supposed to know about that, and Gambit worked overtime to keep her out of that side of his life.

Rogue stared at the card, rubbing it between gloved fingers, wondering if she could extract any more meaning out of nine red diamonds.

He always left her tokens.

Rogue stopped rubbing and stared at the card. She cocked her head, thinking, then rolled off her bed and walked over to the mirror. The tape he'd used to attach the card was still bubbled on the glass. She centered the card over it and pressed it in firmly.

A token. One more meaning; one more clue. He was coming back.

Rogue stared at the card; she gave one short satisfied nod, then went downstairs to dinner.


	2. Ritual

**Challenge: **Word #187 at **15_minute_fic** LJ comm

Not beta'ed. For **whipsy**.

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><p><strong>Ritual<strong>

Gambit pulled over hard to the side of the road and cut the motor. He waited about one half of a heartbeat for the gravel to settle and his breath to even out before yanking off his helmet and staring out at the dark horizon. It _was _morning, but he'd never know it without a watch and a crazy accurate biological clock that always drove Rogue nuts because he was always right.

It ached a little in his chest that she wasn't with him to be irritated, that he couldn't sit at the foot of her bed staring at her until flushed with annoyance, she woke up and tried to pound him for peeping. Even so, this was one ritual he couldn't quite give up, and he hoped she felt the same.

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><p>Kitty groaned at the blare of Rogue's alarm and buried her head into her pillow—phasing did come in handy for <em>something<em>. "It's like waaaaaaaay too early for this," she muttered threateningly, only it didn't sound all that threatening, just like a mumbled protest from a generally ignored roommate.

Rogue emerged bleary-eyed from her own cocoon of covers and stared at the clock for almost a full minute—with Kitty still whining at her to turn it off—before she finally reached out and put the sorry sucker out of its misery.

Kitty poked her head back up out of the pillow. "Rogue?"

But Rogue was too busy untangling herself from blankets and sheets to answer. With a few grunts and a bit of a whine of her own, Rogue managed to finally tumble out of the bed and stalk over to the balcony door. She didn't go outside; she just stopped at the glass and stared out into the darkness of the morning.

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><p>Gambit had never been much for romantic gestures. Having a girlfriend who preferred a sparkly new Glock to a sparkly new diamond sort of put a damper on his developing sense of chivalry. But Bella aside, <em>Rogue <em>wasn't all that big on romantic gestures. She wanted to be romanced, but only in a very practical way. (Try that on for a challenge.)

But this was different.

His night vision was phenomenal, and it didn't hurt that he could see in the infra-red spectrum. He caught the very first hints of approaching light.

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><p>Rogue shivered in the early morning. She was still ignoring the muttering behind her. She didn't have Gambit's knack of moving about without disturbing anybody else, and this was just too important to miss.<p>

Somewhere on a road to or from or in Louisiana was a red-eyed mutant staring into the brightening sky. And right here, she was watching the sunrise with him.


	3. Weary

**Challenge: **Word #188 at **15_minute_fic** LJ comm

Not beta'ed.

Thank you, everyone, for the reviews and the reads and favorites and alerts. Coming back to FF has been like coming home in a way.

**Chellerbelle** (I'm glad this one's intriguing. With this chapter, I just made the horrid mistake of creating a whole _lot_ of backstory to explore, but oh, well. That's what happens with timed, prompted fiction. :groans: And yeah, the infra-red does provide night vision, but it also provides _heat_ vision, a reason I noted them separately.), **Indigo-Night-Wisp** (I do love picking up on the cards. They're just so _full—_lots of potential. And yeah, practical romance. She wants to be swept off her feet, _but..._ she's got a long list of traditionally romantic ideas that strike as somewhat silly. Definitely a challenge, that. :grins: )

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><p><strong>Weary<strong>

The hands clapping were not in applause. In fact, they were about the worst response Gambit could have possibly expected from the particular blonde woman standing in front of him.

"Inspirin'," Belladonna bit out sarcastically. Her blue eyes were cold.

Gambit winced. He had been in New Orleans for over a week, and thus far, he had managed to avoid having this conversation. For once, he didn't sneak out of Guild Council chambers fast enough.

"Bella—"

She held up a hand to forestall him. "Save me de explanations, Remy-cher. I t'ink I heard every last word y' just fed de Council." This time, he could catch the traces of hurt laced in her venom.

He didn't know what to say. He had cared about Belladonna once. He _still _cared if he was being honest with himself. But not enough to love her, to marry her, to give her Guild heirs and a Guild peace. He had told the Council as much. He wanted to make her promises, but he had no promises to give.

He settled. "We went t'rough dis." Warily, wearily.

A small, sad smile bloomed on his former lover's face. "Oui," she said softly. "But den we t'ought y'd come back."

She didn't know about Rogue. Gambit knew Belladonna better than anybody else ever had, and he knew this anger was purely from her own rejection, not the vindictiveness of jealousy, or she wouldn't soften, not even for him. Belladonna was a princess of Assassins. She could do ruthless.

"I wish t'ings were different," he offered.

Belladonna stiffened. The anger left her face, leaving behind a cold mask of indifference. "But dey aren't."

_"Belle—"_

This time, her finger was on his lips and she was this close and he wondered for half a moment what it would have been like if things really _had _been different.

Belladonna shook her head. "Go back t' y'r X-Men, Remy. Just..._don't _come back here again."

That shook him. It left him trembling when she walked away, when he walked away, when he closed the door on his old room and pressed his head into his hands, realizing just how far he'd come.

Henri found him hours later, still staring wearily, warily out of the window. "Pere wants to see y'." Henri never had a problem interrupting Remy's brooding. They were so close to family, but _never _close enough.

Remy nodded. "I'll come." The rest of the words he did not speak hung between them.

_I won't stay._


	4. Maybe

**Challenge: **Word #189 at **15_minute_fic** LJ comm

Not beta'ed.

Thank you to everyone that's reading this little fic. Sorry to those who've reviewed fics that I haven't replied to yet. I'm more than a little swamped and just done some serious reprioritizing.

**Lucky's Girl** (:hugs to you, girl: Good to see you and thank you for all your loveliness. This was a fic that started out as an afterthought and it just sort of grew up on me and went places. I'll even get her cleaned up and beta'ed later [probably when it's done]. I am having fun with the backstory, but I admit, it's sort of just unfolding as I write it. This will be way better when I actually sit down and make it work instead of just as a 15 minute per chapter challenge.), **ruroca57** (Yes, he did love Belle. Their story has always been sad to me. I just can't demonize. I can't. Hopefully, you'll like how this story turns out. It's starting to come together for me.), **New Dawn Rising** (Thank you!), **Chellerbelle** (He does need a hug. Or two. Or three. And in this chapter, so does Rogue, even if she swears she doesn't.), **Indigo-Night-Wisp** (Yes, yes, yes. Rogue belongs with Remy and Belladonna remains so tragic to me. I've got to do something for her this fic. Hmm...)

Thank you, everybody!

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><p><strong>Maybe<strong>

"Well, _dat_ was interesting'," Jean-Luc told his younger son, displeasure clear in his tone.

Remy shrugged one shoulder—classic French shrug, probably learned it in Paris—and dropped into the short leather chair across from his pére's desk. "De council asked. I answered."

"And den some." Jean-Luc frowned. "What were y' t'inkin'?" he demanded. "Belladonna an' y' always were head over heels f' each other. Why y' claimin' now y' won't marry her."

Remy's jaw set in stubborn determination. "'Cause I _won't_."

Maybe...Jean-Luc leaned back in his chair and really _looked_ at Remy for the first time in years. He wondered suddenly what had become of the little scoundrel he had always pretended he didn't like tagging about his heels. How did that small street rascal with the sticky fingers and grinning, endearing ways turn into this hard-faced, hard-eyed man staring back at him with no familial affection?

Something had changed. He took another tack.

"Remy—"

"Gambit." The answer was clipped.

It rocked Jean-Luc back against his seat. "What are y' talkin' about?" he demanded, suddenly, harshly in return. "Y' my son. Y' de _prince_, de heir t' dis Guild."

Remy's expression remained smooth as silken night. He raised one eyebrow. "An' if I don't want it?"

Jean-Luc stared at this stranger in the seat across from him, wearing his son's skin and demon eyes. Maybe...

But he had no answer for the maybes.

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><p>Rogue chewed on her lower lip, trying to concentrate on the math quiz in front of her face. She couldn't. Never mind college entrance exams and applications and all the phone calls for Jean and Kitty being fought over by different high-brow academic institutions. Never mind that no one was knocking down <em>Rogue's<em> door to give her a scholarship. She simply could not concentrate.

Traitorously, her gaze wandered up to the card taped to her mirror and stayed there.

Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he had forgotten about her. He hadn't called, hadn't written; surely, by now he could have found a way to do so without stepping over any of his the-Guild-has-nothing-to-do-with-Rogue-and-Rogue-has-nothing-to-do-with-the-Guild policy.

Rogue chewed on her lower lip again and planted her wandering gaze back on a nasty algebraic formula.

Chasing maybes certainly wasn't going to bring Gambit back or make him call.

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><p>"Maybe we should look in Cerebro?" Kitty suggested.<p>

"I don't see what the big deal is," Scott interjected. "She's eating again. She's being sensible about this. Gambit's never been reliable," he added darkly.

Logan, Kitty, Kurt, and Jean _all_ gave him a look.

"She's not happy," Jean said.

Logan snorted. "Point out the obvious, Red."

"Maybe..." Kitty started again.

"Maybe I'd lahke to do mah homework in peace," Rogue yelled over the banister. "I can hear y'all in mah bedroom!"

The girls gave each other uncomfortable looks.

Logan shook his head and stomped away. "Still chores to be done while you're thinking on your maybes."


	5. Still

**Challenge: **Word #190 at **15_minute_fic** LJ comm

Not beta'ed.

Sorry for the long wait for updates. Hope to start writing more regularly. I'm currently 80+ deep in a 365 original/fandom fiction/poetry challenge on lianamir dot com, so feel free to ask for any particular fanfic you want. Thank you for reading!

**rats xp** (I have fun with catching folks doing what they're not supposed to. And the mansion is so full of amicable busybodies!), **Lucky's Girl** (Way to pick my favorite parts! Thanks for reading and letting me know your favorites. I have a soft spot for family relationships, even Guild ones.), **Hawaiichick** (Brevity is the soul of wit, as they say. No, actually the chapters are short because they have to be written in 15 minutes to the title-word prompt. Kinda crimps the waxing eloquent thing. Glad you're enjoying it!), **Chellerbelle** (My favorite bit was the Jean-Luc/Remy interaction, though the rest is going to sting a bit. Jean-Luc waited too long to retrieve the relationship.), **Indigo-Night-Wisp** (I think you nailed the elements in this one, though I admit, Rogue's concerns are valid. Gambit's liable to get himself in serious trouble without letting anyone know. I can't blame her for worrying. But I do feel for Remy here. This was a hard chapter to write in a way.)

And onto the story.

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><p><strong>Still<strong>

Rogue _could_ hear them all from in her bedroom while trying to study, and she was still feeling restless from the lack of word. That swamp rat did his level best to keep her in the dark about just how much could and did go on with his adopted family, but she hadn't been part of the Brotherhood, raised by Mystique for crying out loud, for nothing. She knew perfectly well that Gambit might be in over his head and in very real danger.

With a small growl to herself and a groan that she was really going to let him interfere with the one aspect of normalcy she actually had left—school—when he wasn't even on the premises, Rogue stalked down to Cerebro herself and knocked with more politeness than she felt for the Professor.

"Come in, Rogue."

She ignored the faint amusement in the Professor's voice and opted for barreling in with her request. "Could you check for me and make sure the swamp rat's not dead?"

This blunt and less than flattering demand was clearly unexpected, or at least its phraseology. The Professor opened his mouth as if to tell her so, then hesitated, then sighed and moved his hands to the controls. "Wait outside and I'll be with you in a moment."

Rogue hesitated herself for a moment, then unbent enough to say, "Thanks," before going out in the hall to wait.

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><p>Remy <em>hated<em> telepaths. Meddling, tiresome, disrespectful by their very nature. A low thunderstorm grumbled through his mind at the clear intrusion of a man who had promised never to intrude.

He sensed Professor Xavier's mind for only an instant, but it was long enough to know that someone was poking in his head without permission, regardless of the faint trace of an apology left behind.

On his face, he showed nothing. Anger would not serve Remy while trying to stave off all the arguments his adoptive father's arguments for returning to the Guild and staying long enough to take up some real responsibility for his family heritage.

"Y're supposed t' be de Guildmaster one day!" Jean-Luc reminded him again, shock at Remy's disinterest making him yell the words.

Guildmaster. The honor inherent in such a proposition should have brought Remy more than a calculated lack of caring. Remy was adopted and younger than Henri by years, but the Guild had made _Remy_ heir. It flew in the face of tradition and showed respect beyond regard. For Remy to refuse to take any steps toward his future position was lower than an insult. It was downright backstabbing betrayal.

Finally, he leaned forward, realizing anew how much he would have to make his position clear. "'M not y' pawn o' prophecy," Remy stated in clipped fury. "'M not de pawn y' c'n use t' rule dis Guild. 'M not Belladonna's destiny. 'M Gambit. _I_ choose m' future."

Jean-Luc swore. "Y' still my son!"

The two men stared at each other, locked in face off and stubborn ambiguity.

"Am I?" Remy finally said softly. He didn't wait for an answer. He stood out of his seat and swiftly exited without another word.


End file.
